


Light at the End of the Tunnel

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Bulimia, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 21:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12155250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	Light at the End of the Tunnel

Days, weeks, months, years of this…

May 11, 2016

I can’t even remember the last time I didn’t throw up after eating my food. Some days I wonder what it would be like not to feel the never-ending pull to run to the bathroom after eating, but then when I imagine getting help for it, I see myself losing control over my life. This I can control. Plus, my weight isn’t that bad. I’m a few pounds overweight, this is just my method of staying this way…right?

May 23, 2016

Looking in the mirror makes me hate myself. I just went out to dinner with my mom and dad after a bad day at work. Italian - which of course meant I had to eat my weight in pasta and breadsticks. The moment I finished eating, I wanted to run to the bathroom to throw up, but I figured it would be too obvious to do in the restaurant, especially when my mom could walk right in, so I waited until I got home and I’ve been throwing up for the past half hour. I’m actually sitting next to the toilet as I’m writing. I feel better now. I know how sick that makes me seem. But I don’t know how to stop.

Each and every entry looked like this. Some days were filled with denial, others hatred, and others still, despair. He shouldn’t be looking at this, but he couldn’t help it as her words filled his head.

After Haley he never imagined falling in love again, but a year and a half after her death, he’d fallen for her - Y/N Y/L/N. For all his profiling, he’d never suspected this. How had he been so blind?

This diary had started in 2015. It was 2017 and still going strong. 

March 3, 2017

The bitch of it is that at this point, so many years down the line, most of the food I binge on just tastes like fucking sawdust now. I don’t even enjoy it, so why can’t I stop bingeing. Maybe if I didn’t binge, I wouldn’t purge afterwards. I don’t want to throw up anymore. I know what this is doing to me…I just. Can’t stop. 

And now I’m petrified Aaron will find out and not want to deal with this. With his job and being a single dad to the cutest little boy imaginable I wouldn’t blame him for not wanting to deal with this; I don’t even want to. All the hiding, all the bingeing and purging, all the self-loathing…I’m so tired.

How long had he been reading this? As he looked at the clock, he watched as numbers switch from 4:02 to 4:03. Last he’d looked it was 3:56. Had it really been that short a time? His entire world was spinning. 

After thawing from his frozen place standing in the middle of the kitchen, Aaron ran into his son’s room. “Jack, where did you find this?”

“At Y/N’s place while she was watching me. The cover was pretty so I took it.” It was a light blue journal with a feather on it. “I’m sorry. I know I was supposed to leave it there.” He knew what he did was wrong, but Aaron couldn’t help but feel a bit grateful at his young son’s curiosity. Y/N was going to hate that he had read it, but he had to try and help her. She couldn’t go on like this, and even though this diary started in 2015, he couldn’t help but notice from the entries that she was probably doing this even longer than that. 

With a hefty sigh, he pulled out his phone and texted her to see if she could come over after she got out of work? It was nearly an hour later, when she finally got off that she returned his text. 

Y/N: Sure! You okay? I’ll be there in 15.

A: I’m okay. I’d just like to see you.

Y/N: You’re too good for me.

A: I’m not. I love you though.

Y/N: I love you too. Be there soon.

Eternities passed before she ended up at his door. Even if she wasn’t a profiler, it didn’t take one to read the distress painting his face. “What’s wrong, Aaron?”

She stepped into the apartment and into his outstretched arms without a word. He hoped she could feel how much he loved her without him having to say it, because she wasn’t going to be happy with what he was about to say. “Aaron, what’s going on?”

In all his years as a lawyer and a profiler, he’d never felt himself at a loss for words. But here he was now walking into the kitchen to grab the bright and sunny journal that held her deep, dark secrets while he tried to come up with what to say. The minute he came back, her eyes darted down to where his hands held her journal. “Where did you get that?” Her voice immediately turned from one of concern to one of anger. “Aaron, why do you have my journal?”

“Jack took it because he thought the cover was pretty. When I found it, it fell out of his bag and I caught sight of a few words that made me worry, so I read some of it.” Betrayal stained her features as the tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry, but-”

“But what?!” She exclaimed. “Aaron, you read my diary!”

“You’re hurting yourself!” He hadn’t cried this hard since the day Haley died, when he’d been powerless to help her; it’s how he felt right now. 

She walked across the room to where he stood at the entrance of the kitchen and snatched the diary from his hands, hastily shoving it in her bag. “I-I can’t stop, Aaron. I don’t know how.” Her emotions overflowed, drop after drop falling to the floor hot as lava. His own tears mingled with her own when she stepped into his embrace, her cheek against his. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Please, let me help you. Let me get you help. Let me be there. Please.” His arms snaked tighter and tighter around her until he swore they were a vice, cutting off her circulation; but she just leaned into him further. “You’re in pain. I can’t stand by and watch this continue. Please let me help.”

Turning her head into his chest, she cried out, her pain still apparent though muffled against him. “How? I’ve been doing this nearly every day for five years. I hate what I see. How do I change that?”

“Therapy, treatment - there are plenty of options that I can introduce you to.” He reached down and cradled her face in his hands, tipping it upward so he could place a gentle kiss to her tear-stained lips. 

Y/N turned around, her hand still limply hanging in his as she walked over to the couch and sat down, staring ahead as if there was nothing there. “I’ll try,” she said, much to his relief. “I can’t make any promises though.”

“All I can ask is that you allow me to try and help you so that you can help yourself. I can’t sit by helpless as another woman I love…” The words got caught in his throat. By the looks of some of these entries, she could easily die from the stress she was putting her body through. “Please.” He had never pleaded with anyone so much in his life.

She craned her head toward his and nodded slightly, her hair falling in her eyes as she spoke. “I promise I’ll try…I don’t want this…”

“I know you don’t,” he replied. Despite her anger, she moved into his embrace, letting the tears flow freely as he rocked her. “I’m not say it’ll be easy, but if you’re willing to try, I am more than willing to be here to help you…I can’t lose you.”

She reached up, still staring into the distance, and grabbed his hand, squeezing gently in an effort to reassure him that she was going to put her all into getting better. So many of her entries had reflected a desire to be different, to feel different; they weren’t just entries. She wanted to feel clean and carefree. Something about Aaron knowing her secret made things easier; someone knew how badly she’d been struggling. “Do you have a pen?”

Aaron turned around and grabbed a pen off the table, handing it to her as she opened the journal to a blank page and sat in his lap. “You can look. I won’t hide it from you.”

September 21, 2017

Aaron knows. Jack saw this book and brought it home. He wants me to get help, and I want to but…I’m scared. I’m so scared of having no control over anything. This…my bulimia has been a constant, something I can control, and letting it go might be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, but I’m going to try. I am really going to try. Maybe one day I won’t feel the pull to run to the bathroom after I eat. Maybe one day I’ll look in the mirror and like what I see. Maybe one day I’ll have a healthy relationship with my body. Today isn’t that day, and it probably won’t be tomorrow either, but for the first time in nearly five years, I have the slightest bit of hope. There is a tiny light at the end of the tunnel and I’m going to try and walk there.

She closed the book and turned back, placing a kiss on his lips. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

“I know,” he replied as he wrapped his arms around her waist again. “But you can do this. I know you can. I believe in you.”


End file.
